


Oh, I love to go out fishing

by morganstern



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce, Tricksters - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Magic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganstern/pseuds/morganstern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Balitang revolt failed, Aly returned to home to work for the Tortallan National Intelligence Service. When high-ranking Kyprin officer Taybur Sibigat defects and joins the NIS, he isn't sure what to make of her. A clandestine operation to prevent the Scanrans from building a new, world-changing rocket forces them to go undercover as a couple - and of course, nothing goes as planned.</p><p>(AU in a world with no gods or magic: part Ruritanian romance, part Cold War spy thriller, part James Bond flick. Aly, of course, is James Bond.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).



> Title from the song "Cheek to Cheek".
> 
> Some minor warnings: Mentions of violence and (hypothetical) torture. References to Nazi Germany, slave labor and the Holocaust in the end notes of chapter 2.

Aly couldn't quite stifle a knot of worry as she made her way through HQ hallways. An unscheduled summons to the office of the Whisper Man, head of the Tortallan National Intelligence Service, probably meant nothing good - even if the Whisper Man was her father.

She knocked briskly on the unmarked door, paused, and entered to face her father and - of all people - Taybur Sibigat.

"Ah, Aly," her Da said pleasantly, before she could do anything but stare. "Thank you for coming." He turned to Taybur. "Captain Sibigat, I believe you've already met agent Aly Cooper?" Polite words, but his eyes held both amusement and a challenge aimed in Aly's direction.

"Indeed," Taybur said. He rose courteously to his feet, and inclined his head toward her. "Though the last time we met was under rather different circumstances." His voice was rich with irony. She'd seen his eyes widen in surprise as she entered the room, but no more than that. The man was good - and oh, how she'd missed this.

"How wonderful to see you again!" she exclaimed, as though she'd just run into an old friend on the street. She took Taybur's hand in greeting, and shot a sunny smile over at her Da. "Taybur and I were good friends back in Rajmuat, you know," she told him confidingly. The skin of Taybur's hand was warm, but dry and chapped. Several days at sea in rough quarters, she guessed, her brain already whirring along at its normal rapid pace.

"Oh, indeed," Taybur agreed, bowing over her hand with exaggerated gallantry. "Truly, Rajmuat has been a shadow of itself since you left." His words and smile might have been double-edged - _since you fled right after half the city was razed in the riots,_ he could easily have added. She could see no blame in his face, though; his remark was wry rather than cutting.

 _What is he doing here?_ she wondered as she sat down in the second chair across from her father. She was careful to slouch a little, lounging as though she owned the place. Her guess would be that Taybur had been smuggled into Tortall from the Copper Isles by boat. He had no scrapes or injuries that she could see - no sign of a struggle. More than that, he'd been alone in an office with her father when she'd entered. He must be here willingly, she concluded, and Da must trust him for some reason.

"Agent Cooper is one of our brightest young officers," her father continued, giving no hint at all that he was introducing his own daughter. "She works closely with the head of the Service. In fact, she was the one to suggest that you be approached as an intelligence asset." 

Aly just smiled mysteriously. It wasn't surprising that Taybur was unaware that the man he was speaking to was actually the head of the NIS. Even within the Service, only his inner circle knew who the 'Master of Whispers' really was. She _hadn't_ known for sure that Taybur had been recruited as an agent - her Da had set her on the Tyran desk when she'd joined the Service, and she didn't have access to many of the secret reports from any other country, including the Copper Isles. Not an accident, she was sure - her Da didn't want her emotions or her loyalties muddled.

Her father turned to face Aly. "Unfortunately, we had to pull Captain Sibigat out of the Isles a little over a week ago, when we had reason to suspect that his identity was compromised. He's been debriefed, and has kindly agreed to join our ranks as an intelligence officer." Her Da, bless him, gave no sign that any of this information might be surprising to her. "I expect that his knowledge of the Copper Isles will be invaluable in the future. However, for the time being, I want him on your team, for a Tyran operation that you'll be running."

Aly glanced at Taybur, who met her gaze with a lack of surprise - this wasn't news to him. At a nod from her father, he explained further.

"The Rittevons have viewed Tortall as an enemy since the uprising," Taybur said, his tone admirably even. _When Tortall cut off trade after the regents murdered King Dunevon_ went unsaid. "I recently began to suspect that they've allied with the Scanrans, when my agents reported that they were meeting Scanran representatives in secret. Just before my extraction, I broke into Sevmire's office and found documents that confirmed my suspicions." He gestured toward a folder of photographic negatives sitting on her father's desk. "I brought photos of the schematics that Sevmire kept on file. They all reference an engineer named Blayse Dekkarsra, who we believe is leading the Scanran weapon development program."

"I had some of our engineers look at the plans," her Da said. "They say that it appears to be designs for some kind of long-range missile, with guidance systems more advanced than any they've ever heard of. The Scanrans call it the _Tötungsmaskin_ \- the "killing device". Notes on the documents indicate a theoretical range of up to two hundred miles."

Aly's eyes widened. "They could bomb Corus without even leaving their borders," she said. Her father nodded, grim.

"That's our concern. Fortunately, they don't appear to have the rockets in production yet. We think that Scanra is using Tyran engineers and factories to build the guidance systems. They don't have the expertise, the facilities or the raw supplies in Scanra itself."

"What do the Tyrans get out of it?" Aly asked, wrinkling her nose. Slippery and amoral they might be as a nation, she couldn't see what rocky, impoverished Scanra would have to convince Tyran merchants and craftsmen to help.

"They get the designs for the rockets, for one. They're worth money to the right buyer," Taybur answered. "That's why Sevmire had the detailed schematics - he's acting as the middle-man between the Scanrans and their friends in Tyra. But from what I understand, the Tyrans are primarily interested in mining rights in Scanra, after the Tortallan blockade is broken. They're counting on the Tortallan front falling apart once their rear is under fire."

"And without a strong offence from us, the trade embargo will fall apart as well," her Da added, a wry twist to his mouth. "Our neighbors are far less committed to this war than we are."

Aly nodded, slowly. Things were starting to come together. "I've had reports of Tyran merchants discussing Scanran mining rights," she said. "It didn't make much sense until now, because of the embargo. But if a merchanter house is counting on the blockade and embargo breaking in the near future, that would explain it. I'll have a list of houses who might be involved ready by tomorrow." She glanced at her father, who nodded.

"Do that," he told her. "In addition, I want you on the ground in Tyra by the end of the week. _Not_ involved in any field operations," he added quickly, before she could say anything. He handed her a file stamped "SECRET", and she opened it - it was an intelligence profile of a Tyran businessman.

"Gregoire Poli," her Da continued. "Owner and primary inventor for a manufacturer of ship stabilizing mechanisms. Started out as an engineer for a naval architecture firm, but did well enough to start his own company."

Aly raised an eyebrow. "And...?" she prompted. Always a dramatic, her father smiled.

"And he's the world's foremost expert on gyroscopic stabilizers." He tapped the stack of schematics. "That's the guidance technique that makes these rockets so dangerous. His name appears on several of the designs. We're reasonably sure that he is the one designing and manufacturing the guidance systems for these rockets."

"Sounds like a nice guy," Aly muttered.

"Nice enough for us," her Da said cheerfully. "For now, he's our best lead outside Scanra or the Isles. I have other agents working on getting more information in Scanra, and in Rajmuat." He inclined his head in acknowledgement toward Taybur, and received a rueful sort of grimace in response.

It couldn't be pleasant for Taybur to have suddenly become an outcast to all his old networks and operations - an exile from everything and everyone he knew. He could never return while Imajane and Rubinyan held power. It must burn that his cover had been blown before he managed to bring them down.

Aly could sympathize.

"Spend the next couple days familiarizing yourselves with the details. Your goal is to discover how close the Scanrans are to firing one of these rockets at us - and how to keep them from getting there," her father said. His face was once again hard - not an expression she was used to seeing on him. This business had him truly worried. "Once you're in Tyra, I want every detail you can get on these rockets and their manufacturing process: locations, names, materials, shipping routes, specifications. Once you obtain more information, we can decide the best method of… intervention."

That could mean either diplomatic pressure, threats, sabotage, or murder - or a combination of 'all of the above'. Aly couldn't say she'd object to any of those options.

"Who makes the decision on what method of 'intervention' we use?" asked Taybur, evidently thinking along similar lines as she.

"Agent Cooper will be in command of the operation. Before taking action, she'll report to me. I'll report to… well." Her Da gestured airily in an upwards direction. "Whoever needs to know. I expect that decisions about any actions to be taken will be made at the highest level." The 'highest level', barring the king himself, was sitting right in front of them - but Taybur didn't need to know that.

Her father took two slim files from his desk and handed one to her, and the other to Taybur. "Here are your new identities," he said. "They'll check out with the Ministry of Interior if need be. Look them over tonight, and submit any changes you find necessary as soon as possible." His tone made it clear that any changes had better be absolutely necessary.

Aly's file contained a small booklet - her new passport. She flipped through the pages, pleased with what she saw. It was a perfect fake. _Delora Aminleigh, née Gottry_ , she read. Aged 21 years old. Married. She glanced over and saw that Taybur's eyebrows had risen in surprise as well. His own sideways look at her held mingled humor and trepidation.

"I'm sending you undercover as newlyweds, so you'll have a clear excuse to be sneakin' off into dark corners." Her Da's tone was dry with suppressed amusement as he glanced between Aly and Taybur. Aly smirked; he obviously knew exactly how much fun she was going to have with this. "Other than that, Agent Cooper will be in charge of the arrangements. Any questions?"

"No, sir," Taybur said. Aly shook her head.

"Good." He turned to Aly. "Agent Cooper, I'll need a short word with you," he said. At the clear dismissal, Taybur rose, bowed to Aly, and left the room.

As the door closed behind him, Aly scowled at her father. "What was that supposed to be, exactly?" she asked irritably.

Her Da blinked. "A mission briefing, I believe," he said with a certain amount of wariness. Aly snorted derisively.

"Not a single threat? No, 'You treat my daughter right or they'll never find your body'? A girl could think that her father doesn't care at all who she marries!"

Her Da reached forward and took both her hands in his. "My dearest Aly," he said, staring earnestly into her eyes. "I have every confidence in your judgement, and in your ability to stick him full of knives if he mistreats you. If this is the man you've chosen as your husband, then I am more than willing to clasp your bridegroom to our family bosom." He pressed their entangled hands to his chest to demonstrate.

Aly's giggles finally escaped her, and she pulled her hands free to stop herself from sprawling across his desk.

"Your mother, on the other hand…" Her Da shook his head, still perfectly serious. "I'd keep him away from her until she has time to get used to the idea. I happen to know she's been working on _her_ threat speech since she got pregnant with your brother Thom." Aly winced. Her mother's threats were _terrifying_. "It might be safe to introduce them, say, five years after the wedding." He sighed. "Too bad you won't be married to him for longer than a month or two."

"You like him," Aly said, suppressing laughter. "I can tell."

Her father waved a dismissive hand. "He's a fine agent. I've had a chance to see him at work; he's been advising me and my analysts on this business for a week now. Shame to lose him as our man in Rajmuat, but he's already well on his way to making up the cost of his extraction."

"As a _person_ , Da," she said, rolling her eyes. "You know you enjoyed that conversation with him just as much as I did."

His lips quirked. "Maybe not quite as much as you did," he said. Aly barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes again. Her father never missed a chance to tease her about boys.

"I won't deny he's likeable," her father admitted, serious. "He's been remarkably reliable for a foreign agent. But don't confuse a man's pursuit of revenge for loyalty to his allies." There was no levity at all to their conversation now. "We've been his tool just as much as he's been ours. Set him against an enemy other than the Rittevons, and you can't know which way he'll jump when your backs are up against the wall - or when he gets a better offer."

Aly swallowed the first words that leapt to her lips - defenses of Taybur Sibigat, of a vehemence that surprised her. Taybur was a good man. She'd never known him to show anything but kindness to her and the other servants in Rajmuat, though he'd outranked them by far. Even the raka worked with had liked and respected him, though he'd been a full-blood luarin who worked for the Rittevons. He'd loved poor Dunevon like his own son, though it must have made his job as captain of the King's Guard a thousand times harder.

And yet - her father was right. She might have trusted Taybur's love for Dunevon, but the boy was dead. She might trust his need for revenge against Imajane and Rubinyan - but what if he decided that serving the Tortallans was now not his best path to getting it? She didn't even know whether he had family or friends back in the Isles who could be used as leverage against him. She didn't, she realized, really know him at all.

"Point taken," she said at last. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Her father, thankfully, knew not to push her any further. "Just to remind you of our agreement," he said, accepting her change of the subject.

"I remember," Aly said stiffly. "I won't put myself in danger."

"No unnecessary risks," he said, forceful. "We have agents in Tyra to do the field work for you. What we do _not_ have are enough people who can be trusted with the complete picture. If anything happens to you, I'll have to pull someone off another critical operation. That's not an acceptable outcome." He was speaking as her commander now, not as her Da.

"Understood," Aly said.

"Don't be fooled by the fact that we're at peace with Tyra. If the authorities there catch you and bring you up on charges of espionage, there will be nothing we can do. You'll be outside our official protection. And keep in mind that we don't know how far this conspiracy goes. As far as you're concerned, everyone there is a potential enemy."

Her father's eyes bored into hers as though trying to impress the importance of his orders on her by sheer will. Aly nodded her understanding.

After a moment her Da's face softened. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "All right, I'll try not to worry," he said. "I trust your abilities and your judgement. Just please promise your old Da that you'll do your best to come back in one piece?"

Aly circled his desk to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be back here to bother you before you know it," she said. "I promise." He pulled her into a quick hug.

"Well, off with you," he said after he released her. "I'll see you again before you leave. Time to get to work."

********

Aly's Da had never wanted her to enter the world of espionage. It couldn't be easy for him to know he had only himself to blame for the fact that she'd chosen it. Aly had spent a time being angry at him for perceived hypocrisy: he'd been willing to train her, as one would give a child a shiny toy, but refused to let her use her training in the field just because she was his daughter. Since then, her anger had cooled. She'd realized that it had never been in his nature to deny knowledge from a child who begged for it, even if he'd known in advance that he wouldn't like the consequences.

Since Aly had returned from the Copper Isles and began her apprenticeship in earnest, she had been forced to accept the condition that she would never work in the field as an agent again. It didn't mean she was happy about being ordered to stay in a safehouse while other agents did the hands-on work. Her father may have complimented the skill she'd displayed as an inadvertent agent in not-so-friendly territory, but his main condition to letting her join the NIS had been that she'd never see action or do fieldwork again.

"It's a bad thing when the agent is worth more than the whole mission, Aly," he'd told her, months earlier. "Whether you like it or not, you are important - were born important. I know you don't think it's fair, but that's the truth of it."

Aly had stiffened her back, clenched her jaw as he spoke, perhaps in unconscious echo of her mother's military stance. _A soldier wouldn't have to deal with this,_ she'd thought bitterly. _No one would ever dare tell Mother to stay out of the field, no matter that she's a general and the King's friend to boot._

"You can treat me like any other agent," she'd said. "I don't need special treatment just because of who my parents are."

"They would hurt you _because_ of who your parents are," her father had said, all humor gone from his eyes. "They would demand things far beyond anything we'd give for an ordinary agent - concessions the kingdom cannot afford to give. If we refused their ransom or demands, they would send you back to us in pieces. They'd take their time with you, bring in a real artist to do it right. Do you know how long a skilled torturer can keep a person alive?"

"Da-"

"No," he'd said, cutting her off, as grim as she'd ever seen him. "If you're fool enough to want to put yourself in that position, you'll stand there and listen to me tell you the consequences of your decision - in as much detail as necessary." He'd grimaced, shaken his head as though to shake it free of images of Aly being tortured to death. "Do you honestly think that your mother or I could stand to just leave you in enemy hands, like you're asking? That's a cruel thing to ask of any parent."

The pain in his voice had cut her heart, even though she'd known he wasn't playing fair, was doing it on purpose. Just because a person deliberately said a thing to affect your emotions didn't mean it wasn't true.

So she'd agreed. It was the only way she could get back in the game, to play it on a level she knew she was already addicted to. Even Aly wasn't stubborn enough to strike out on her own on purpose. She'd been lucky with her work in the Isles, had fallen straight into a cause and an existing network. She wouldn't be that lucky a second time.

********

Taybur was loitering in the hallway outside her Da's office, waiting for her. Aly wasn't surprised.

"I suppose I shouldn't bother asking how a girl named 'Cooper' is apparently part of the Whisper Man's inner circle," he said, tone thoughtful. He was fishing, and not even bothering to hide it.

She smiled prettily at him, aware that 'Aly Cooper' sounded even more false than the name "Aly Homewood". It would be obvious to him by now that she was probably not a commoner, but 'Cooper' was a plain name, a common name - just the kind of name any spy would choose as their alias. There had been a reason she'd selected the name 'Homewood' when she'd had a choice: it was a commoner name, but a halfway unusual one. Choose a name like 'Cooper' or 'Smith', and you might as well paint a sign on you that read "Suspicious!". The fact that it really was her real name didn't matter.

It wasn't a secret, precisely, that Alanna of Trebond had married a man named George Cooper, but neither was it a well-known fact. When the press talked about her mother, they usually called her by titles, or simply as "The Lioness". And, of course, as far as they knew they had no reason to write about her father at all. Taybur should have no reason to associate the name Cooper with espionage.

"If you want to waste your breath, go right ahead," she said airily, laughing on the inside. It tickled her a fair bit that even after being told her real name, he was even more suspicious of it that he'd been of her fake one. It was fun to play games with a man who knew her well! She reckoned it would take him a little while to make the connection between Aly and her mother, and she planned on making the most of that time while it lasted. As for her connection with her father - well, he wasn't cleared to know about that.

"I confess I'm surprised," Taybur continued, tone light, then paused to give the conversation appropriate suspense: another game that Aly knew.

"Oh?" she prompted archly, and looked up at him through artfully fluttering eyelashes.

"I'm surprised that you've been working for the Whisper Man all this time," Taybur said. "I mean, it was the obvious answer: you are from here, after all. That's why I ruled it out - his spies are usually more subtle than that, and you - you are anything but obvious."

Aly knew it was - mostly - a compliment, but she felt as though lead weights had dropped into the pit of her stomach. Even though there was no overt judgement in his stance or tone, Aly swallowed her reflexive anger at what he was implying - that she'd been spying on the Balitangs instead of for them. That she had betrayed the trust of the family she'd fought so hard to protect. She raised her chin and met his eyes squarely, ignoring the ridiculous amount of height he had on her. She imagined her mother, or Queen Thayet, facing down a challenge or a slight.

This wasn't the fun conversation she'd wanted to have. He was looking at her differently than he had in Rajmuat, she realized. They worked for the same people now, but she got the sense that he trusted her even less than he had back in the Isles.

"Last year, I worked for the Balitangs and for no one else," she said. "Now I work for Tortall, and only for Tortall. That's all you need to know about me."

 _I am trusted here,_ her iron gaze added, louder than words, _and you are not._

Taybur raised his eyebrows. "You don't honestly expect me to believe that someone of your clearance was working for an outside group just a year ago."

"Believe what you want," Aly said. She wiped the scowl from her face and turned away, smothering any further conversation on the subject. He didn't need any more clues to the fact that he'd touched a nerve. 

It wasn't like Taybur's logic was wrong. With almost any other agent, he'd have been correct. Without her family connections, she'd not have access or a position anywhere near as high in the Intelligence Service. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair - but trained agents who could be trusted were few and far between. Even the fact that she'd given her loyalty to foreigners for over a year didn't matter against the fact that her Da, and Their Majesties, had known her from birth.

It was a well-kept secret that her father was the Whisper Man, a secret that only his personal staff were privy to. Most agents in headquarters knew that Aly Cooper, daughter of the famous Lioness, was on that staff - though outside the NIS, very few people knew she was involved in espionage. Taybur would find out that second secret soon enough, and she hoped that would answer his questions about her loyalties and her rapid promotion.

Aly took a breath. She'd reacted too strongly, revealed perhaps too much. Nothing to do about that now.

"Come on. I'll show you where my office is," she said - a peace offering. "We have an operation to plan."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vignettes from the operation.

After a week in Tyra, Aly was sick of the hotel's newlyweds' suite. In particular, she was tired of sleeping on the couch in the suite, which had obviously been chosen with the optimistic assumption that no couple so recently united could possibly suffer from marital problems. That is to say, it was not meant for sleeping on.

Taybur had initially insisted that she take the bed, and he sleep on the couch. "Or on the floor," he added, as she eyed his ridiculously tall figure with obvious skepticism. In a fit of chivalry (fine time for her mother to start rubbing off on her), she'd browbeaten him into taking the bed himself.

"Don't be ridiculous," she'd said. "I'm a whole foot shorter than you. I won't even notice I'm not in a real bed."

Hah.

But aside from the slight ache in her back, the operation was going well. Aly had met with the handful of local agents trusted with doing the ground work on this: Tortallan agents, not locals recruits. She sifted through reports, and copies of intercepted communications. She sent her agents to probe Poli's various properties - house, factories, warehouses. He was certainly up to something. Most of his facilities had the security one would expect from a manufacturer - bars, solid locks, a few guards. But one factory and one warehouse were sealed up tight as a-- well, Aly wouldn't repeat the exact words her agent had used. Tight enough to be suspicious.

On the other hand, Delora Aminleigh spent her days taking long strolls with her husband, visiting museums, calling upon new acquaintances met at the parties and concerts they attended almost nightly. If they spent a few hours in seclusion nearly every day, no one thought to comment on it much.

Tomas and Delora Aminleigh were scions of new money, recently united in matrimony and more than happy to explore their new familial status as far away from parental eyes as possible. Delora was silly and perhaps not very bright; Tomas was a bit of a bore and tended to go on about ore grades if you let him. But both of them were friendly, cultured, and had money to spend, so social opportunities were not lacking.

The picture Aly's efforts painted was ominous but not yet dismal. Poli was involved, as were at least three of the Tyran merchant houses. Everything hinged on the engineering and manufacturing - and she was ready to act on that as soon as she received her orders.

********

"Once you set the charges, use paint or charcoal to mark the scene with this symbol, in two or three places," Aly said, tapping her finger on a scrap of paper. It bore an emblem drawn in careful lines - a two-peaked, snowcapped mountain, with a bloody knife floating over it.

"The Scanran coat of arms - clever," Taybur said, a note of admiration in his voice. "Poli will know why the factory was torched, but he can't be certain who did it and why."

"Exactly," Aly agreed happily. A girl did like to be appreciated. "King Maggur isn't exactly known for his even temper - or sanity. It'll keep Poli on his toes, wondering if his Scanran friends have turned against him, and if it's really worth doing business with them. Also, the Tyrans won't know to blame us for it. Tortallans destroying factories would make them angry, maybe even turn them against us. This way if someone gets the blame, it'll be the Scanrans." So close to the royal visit to Tyra, neither her father nor Their Majesties would be happy if she stirred up anti-Tortallan sentiment without need.

Taybur whistled. He doffed an imaginary hat and bowed deeply in her direction. "My lady, your deceitfulness and cunning never cease to amaze me."

Aly simpered, hiding her face demurely behind an invisible fan. "Oh, my lord, you flatter me!" she said.

The agent who went by the alias Fox cleared her throat pointedly from the other side of the table. When Aly glanced over, Weasel was scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away from her and Taybur. Aly sniffed inwardly, and dropped her pose. Some people just didn't understand art.

" _After_ you draw the symbols," she continued, "scatter and report back. Take your time making your way here if you need to. The important thing is that these attacks seem to come from nowhere; if even one of you gets caught, half our intimidation factor is gone. Scrub the operation if it looks like it might go wrong. There will be plenty more chances to hit him."

She met the eyes of each of her agents in turn, trying to impress on them the importance of her instructions. When she met his eyes, Taybur gave her a little nod - acknowledgement of her orders, mixed with approval and respect. It wasn't like she needed praise from him, but it warmed her anyway.

"All right. Tomas here is in command," she said, with a nod at Taybur. "Stay safe."

********

"How much longer do we have to waltz?" Taylor asked. He scowled in the direction of the musicians as they danced among dozens of other couples, all here to celebrate House Venturini's newly-decorated ballroom. "I swear, that's five waltzes they've played in a row."

The Tyran houses and the Tortallan expatriates tended to move in different orbits, but the Aminleighs were both children of merchants. And merchants the world over were always eager to mix potential business in with their pleasure.

"One more to be safe, I think," Aly said, sneaking a glance toward the doors she knew led in the direction of their host's study. Lord Venturini, the house's patriarch, had only left his study and joined the party twenty minutes earlier, to his wife's displeasure. 'Delayed by urgent business', Aly had heard when they arrived. Once she picked all his locks, she hoped to find out exactly what that business had been.

Taybur sighed, resigned. "I suppose I can live with that," he conceded.

Gods save her from overdramatic men.

"Has the magic faded already?" Aly asked mournfully. "We've only been married three weeks."

Taybur grinned, delighted. "Not at all, darling," he said. "I thought you realized; I just can't wait to get you alone." 

"I like the way you think," Aly said, and kept her own smile from turning into a smirk. With her left hand, she traced teasing fingers down his neck; an invitation obvious to anyone watching them.

Taybur pulled her closer. "Let's make it look good," he murmured into her ear. The brush of his lips, the thrill of their mission, the tickle of his breath on her skin, the humming buzz of his voice so close to her - it all burned through her veins, as intoxicating as fine wine.

She turned her face up to his, saw the same thrill in his own eyes, and was hit with a sudden wave of _Yes, want_. Aly wasn't sure whether the desire belonged to her or to Delora, who giggled and swooned and was absolutely infatuated with her handsome husband. She didn't care, not really - it was just as useful either way.

Aly caught a several amused looks in their direction when they made their way out of the ballroom with clear haste. No one in the room was going to find it strange that they'd decided to slip away.

********

"There must be fifty guards around the king and queen," Taybur hissed at her in protest. "There's no way that we can slip into their entourage without causing a commotion." 

"Just trust me," Aly muttered back, grabbing his hand in a - romantic! - iron grip and dragging him - casually! - in the direction of the Tortallan delegation. 

She aimed them towards the part of the small crowd closest to the monarchs, walking at that magical, confident pace that would make her look like she was exactly where she was supposed to be, doing exactly what she was supposed to do. No matter that her and Taylor's clothes and hair were disheveled enough to make people look twice. 

She was just a few feet away from the line of guards before they realized that she intended to go through, not around, them. The nearest men and women eyed her and Taybur suspiciously, their hands shifting minutely on their weapons. If the pair of them had looked more like a threat, if they so much as moved a hand toward a hidden pocket, they'd have been looking down about a dozen rifle barrels. As it was, the guards were wary. King Jonathan stood only a few more feet behind them. 

_Look over here,_ she willed at the king. _Let us in!_

Perhaps he sensed the tension building from their direction; perhaps they were just lucky, because just then he turned his head in their direction. Aly had the satisfaction of seeing King Jonathan of Tortall glance at her - then do a double-take. 

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to step back," one of the guards began. Aly felt other eyes turn in their direction, minor ripples spreading through the hum of polite conversation. Heads craned to see the source of the small disturbance. The forces combing through the crowd would take note any moment.

"Aly!" Jonathan called over the heads of his guards. "About time you two showed up. We were starting to think you wouldn't wake up before noon." He betrayed no visible surprise at her presence or appearance, merely a certain fond, avuncular exasperation. "Here, let her through," he told the guards, stepping forward and laying a hand on the shoulder of the objecting officer.

"Your Majesty-" the officer began, who knew perfectly well that Aly and Taybur were not part of the delegation.

"She's one of ours," the king muttered in his ear, and beckoned them inside the circle of guards.

And just like that, the scene had been smoothed over with barely a ripple remaining. Foreign eyes turned away and conversations continued. For the vast majority of bystanders, the incident hadn't even impressed itself on their conscious minds.

Too late, the Tyran captain burst through the crowd, only to come up against the wall of Tortallan guards. His enraged gaze was fixed on Aly and Taybur for a moment before he saw the king, standing right beside them. The Tyran had the presence of mind to rip the cap off his head and bow.

"Your Majesty," he said. "I fear two dangerous fugitives we were hunting through the streets have infiltrated your delegation." His eyes returned to Aly, and she could almost hear him grind his teeth in frustration. The man already knew they were out of his hands for good.

King Jonathan smiled in polite incredulity. One eyebrow, deliberately raised, added just a dash of scorn. "I'm afraid you've made a mistake," he said. A careless gesture indicated the assembled Tortallans and the tight ring of guards surrounding them. "Everyone present is here under our auspices."

"I see," the Tyran said. "I will report as much to my superiors, Your Majesty. Please forgive me for disturbing you." He bowed stiffly and retreated.

"Don't worry about him," Jonathan said wryly as they watched him go. "We have more than enough evidence of merchant houses allying with Scanra to embarrass the Tyran government for at least a decade."

They turned to face Queen Thayet, who had made her way over from the other side of the group of Tortallans. "Aly!" she exclaimed, bending down to kiss Aly's cheeks. "How nice of you to join us. Your mother was just off to a meeting with the Tyran Minister of Defense, but your father has been telling us how your brother Thom has been doing at university. Come with me; we would all love to hear what you and your young man have been up to." She turned her smile on Taybur, who looked - understandably - a little wild around the eyes.

Through the new gap in the crowd Aly saw that her Da was indeed standing further back, in a clump of other delegates. He met her eyes with a grin as Thayet led them over.

"Da!" Aly exclaimed, embracing her father, and let greetings and introductions wash over them.

"How fortunate that your job allows you to spend so much time with your father," Taybur said to her a few minutes later, admirably calm.

"You know what they say," Aly said cheerfully, entwining her fingers in his and leaning her head on his shoulder. She felt absolutely no need to enlighten him as to what was going on - well, not yet, anyway. "'The family that plays together, stays together,' and all that." 

She couldn't wait for him to meet her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tötungsmaskin rockets are vaguely inspired by the V1 and V2 missiles, engineered by the Germans (and build by slave labor in horrific conditions) for use against the Allies during WWII. They were the first self-guided rockets used in warfare, and were hugely influential on both the space race and the entire "Mutual Assured Destruction" doctrine of the Cold War. "Tötungsmaskin" is a bastard combination of the Danish and German words for "killing machine".
> 
> I was unable to find a coat of arms or other representative symbol for Scanra, so I made one up.


End file.
